


A Song for a Heart so Big God Wouldn't Let it Live

by Africana123



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Afterlife, Also sidenote: Fuck the aliens rapture ending in a post-apocalypse war show, Bellarke Becho or Clexa should have happened, But it was awesome seeing Lexa back, F/M, Sad with a Happy Ending, Suicide, The ending was just terrible writing, True Love, fuck jroth, most characters are mentioned - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-12
Updated: 2020-10-12
Packaged: 2021-03-08 07:27:58
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,871
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26968243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Africana123/pseuds/Africana123
Summary: (I'm only writing this because we're here. In no way should the ending have happened because both Clarke and Bellamy were ooc but because we're here I'm putting them back in character in cannon)Years after the human race ascended, Clarke Griffin, the last human, the only unsaved, wanheda kom no kru dies. Death is not the end. And Clarke Griffin is many things but she is not alone.
Relationships: Bellamy Blake/Clarke Griffin
Comments: 4
Kudos: 67





	A Song for a Heart so Big God Wouldn't Let it Live

Clarke always knew, despite her prayers, that she would die alone. She was wanheda, commander of death. How else could she die? 

It had been, mostly, a pleasant life she thought to herself as she stood at the edge of the pit. There had been death and times when it seemed like there'd only be death. And those times Clarke would never forget, no matter how much she wished she could. That was the thing about death, Clarke decided as she looked down the long fall to the bottom of the pit. Death teaches you lessons that you can never forget. And death had always taught Clarke the same lesson: look how much you have to lose. And Clarke, she had _lost_. She had lost her father, Wells, Finn, Lexa, Kane, her mother, - Clarke sucked in a breath as she continued her thought - Bellamy. Clarke knew and valued the knowledge of just how much she had to lose. She _always_ knew _exactly_ how much she had to lose. 

Except, Clarke thought to herself looking down at the razor sharp tip of the spears at the bottom of the pit, she had already lost everything - even things she hadn't known she had. Like hope. Clarke didn't think after all these years that she somehow managed to hope, but she had. Despite the genocide, despite the war, despite the death, and pain, and grief, and agony Clarke had somehow always managed to hope. And she hadn't realized it until it was gone. The other things Clarke had lost were obvious. Her family, her friends, her people, her _daughter_ , her loves, her home. But other lost things were more subtle, like her innocence, her dignity, her sense of safety, her humanity. It was ironic, at least to Clarke, that so many of her lost things hadn't been stolen but willingly parted with. 

Yet, - and this is why Clarke thought that she had a pleasant life, mostly - there was a comfort in having lost everything. In having the entirety of yourself stolen and somehow continuing on. With humanity either dead, scattered throughout galaxies and planets, or transcended to a higher state of being Clarke finally had peace. There were no more wars to fight or enemies to kill or people asking for her to give one more tiny piece of herself that she would never see again. She could just ... live. Though, she often found herself struggling to answer what she was living for. And for a time, longer than she had ever had before, Clarke found peace living with last of the grounders and skaikru and company that had chosen to stay behind for her. 

Clarke crouched down to get a closer look at the bottom of the pit. She worried about if it was a long enough fall. She knew she should have dug it deeper but honestly she was anxious to get it over with. Briefly her mind flittered to how it would feel, what she'd do if something went wrong and she didn't ... well, die. There'd be no one there to find her. No one left to save her. But honestly, Clarke hadn't been looking to be saved in a long time. Think other thoughts, she told herself. So, Clarke thought about her friends.

Murphy and Emori were the first to leave. And Clarke couldn't even hold it against them. They'd stayed for over 15 years. They were getting older, everyone was getting older. And without the possibility of children, of a legacy, time moved rather tauntingly, always making you aware of just how much time you had left. Clarke hadn't known for years after the transcendence that they all had the choice to go back. That they'd only die if they chose to. It was actually Jordan who let it slip, which in a way was comforting after all these years. But it did change things after Clarke knew. She laughed when she found out but she knew deep inside that eventually she'd have to make them go back, that if there was a choice she couldn't let them make this one. And honestly, when Murphy got sick and slower didn't get better, Clarke knew that he and Emori would be leaving. They said goodbye and it was beautiful and heartfelt but all it did was make Clarke aware of how little time they all had left. 

Slowly, over the years as people grew older and life grew harder they chose to go back. Always with Clarke's blessing. Always with her joy. But they always chose to leave. Raven stayed the longest. And for that Clarke was grateful, but eventually Clarke sent her away too. A mind like her's shouldn't go to waste, Clarke told herself. And just like that she was alone. 

She made it five weeks. Just long enough to dig this hole and make the spears to fill it with. She used the time to try to make right with the universe, though she'd long since thought that was possible. Clarke slowly stopped thinking. All thoughts lead her back to where she was currently, standing on the edge of the pit wondering if today was the day she'd do it. She had asked the same question to herself for the last 3 mornings but never found the will to go through with it. Perhaps, if she had chosen a different method it'd have been easier to say yes, but there was some self-hating romantic fool inside herself who found satisfaction in the idea of honoring Bellamy in ending her own life in the same fashion he originally had saved her from. Sometimes in the dark of the night, after everyone had gone to sleep and she'd find herself staring up at the sky, she'd wish on shooting stars, remembering past conversations, that Bellamy had let go of her wrist that first day on the ground all that time ago. Maybe then he'd be alive or transcended or anywhere besides rotting. 

Like the last three mornings Clarke had put on her warpaint. A head-nod to a defining part of her life. She liked to think that with her death, wanheda and the need for her would also die. Clarke looked back down at the spears promising a horrific end and hesitated for a moment. But like she had just reminded herself, there was a comfort in having lost everything, it meant there was nothing left to lose. 

There were no prayers left inside of Clarke, except maybe that sorry could ever be enough. And with no one left to kill and nothing left to give Wanheda jumped and proved once and for all that even she must die. 

Clarke was only aware of the piercing sensation of the spear tips and the stickiness of the blood coating her skin and pain, before she was quickly pulled away by the spinning blackness encroaching on all sides, lulled into nothingness with the comforting knowledge that her fight was over. 

### 

There was only a blinding light at first. A light so whole, so entire that it was everything that was and Clarke was being bathed in it's purity. Clarke hadn't felt pure in so long. 

Then there were arms, just two, locked around her. Just that, for the longest eternity, just the warmth of being caught in someone's embrace, being cradled like something precious and being bathed in the light. And if this is all that death was then it was already kinder than life. 

But then the light receded, collapsing into itself and retreating back into its source - Clarke! It retreated back into Clarke. Clarke gazed down in amazement at her chest - as best she could squished against the person still hugging her desperately - at the light settling deeper inside her. And in some way, some way past understanding, Clarke understand. The light - the energy that Clarke had been bathed in was _her_. Was the same thing that made Clarke, Clarke. It was like - it was Clarke was getting back all the parts of herself she'd left behind. She felt ... _whole_. Well, almost. 

"I've been waiting for you, princess," the person hugging Clarke whispered with their head tucked above her's. 

Clarke's eyes squeezed shut. Her heart - or whatever she had now - squeezed in her chest. She couldn't bring herself to look up, in case somehow this wasn't happening. In case by looking up it was taken from her. She swallowed and held her breath as fingers found their way under her jaw to tilt back her head. 

"Open your eye, Clarke." 

Clarke shook her head. She couldn't. She couldn't continue if this wasn't him. 

She heard a watery chuckle but kept her eyes firmly shut. 

"Princess," he started again, "I've waited decades to see your eyes again. Please, open them." 

Clarke swallowed and found one last prayer she didn't know she had and slowly opened her eyes. Brown eyes, the color of the first patch of soil she ever caught to dig her hands into, met her own blue owns. He looked like how she liked to remember him. Younger than the last time they'd parted, closer to his age at the dropship, but with the same peace and wisdom to his eyes that he had after his time on the ring. He looked healthy and unscarred and well taken of. And the dimple at the corner of his mouth, the one that only came out when he smirked like he thought he got away with something harmless, the one that never followed him out of the mountain, was there. Her eyes instantly filled with tears and her mouth opened with apologies too numerous to even start. 

But Bellamy cut them all off before they begun, "Don't, not yet. We have time, Clarke, we have time." 

Clarke opened and closed her mouth several times as she tried to process what he said. She numbly noted that they were standing in the middle of the most picturesque woods she had ever seen, the same type of woods she would have imagined before coming down to the Earth and learning the brutal reality of life on the ground. She glanced around but they were nowhere she'd ever been, though Bellamy didn't seem the least bit concerned. Her just stared at her face with something that she'd only seen when Gaia would talk about her religion, like he was looking at something holy. 

Clarke belatedly realized that she was still standing in the circle of his arms with her hands clutching the fabric of his shirt. She instantly blushed and moved to step away, embarrassed that she was so obviously showing her feelings for him when they were never that in life, but Bellamy refused to let her retreat from him. He pulled her tighter against him into another crushing hug, one that she was far too weak to ever willingly leave. 

"Let's get a drink. You owe me one, after all," Bellamy said, when they could finally tear themselves away from each other, "Monty and Jasper have really taken this time to perfect their recipe." 

Clarke held her breathe for a second and thanked whatever God made this possible, "They're here too?" 

Bellamy just smiled, "They're all here, Clarke. Every last one."

**Author's Note:**

> Title is from a song called "Hear You Me" by Jimmy Eat World. It's sad and slow and, in my opinion, perfectly describes Bellamy and Clarke's relationship after this season and, to me, sounds like Clarke speaking to Bellamy.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this fic. It's honestly been a bit since I've written so idk if it's good. Leave comments, let me know what you think. I always love hearing them. I'd also love to take fic recommendations to write if anyone is looking for something specific.


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